Too Much Time Without You
by notxherex
Summary: Francis has been feeling lonely lately. "As immortal as I am," Arthur began, "I'm only human when it comes to a day's time, Francis, I can't help everything that's happened. Whether I stay or go is, of course, your decision."


Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.

All characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz

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"As immortal as I am," Arthur began, "I'm only human when it comes to a day's time, Francis, I can't help everything that's happened. Whether I stay or go is, of course, your decision."

Francis continues to stare out the window he stood at; he saw the children with their parents walking to the park not far from his home in Paris. The sun was out and the weather couldn't have been more perfect. Unfortunately, Francis couldn't enjoy this day; he hadn't been able to enjoy himself much since Arthur had seemed to disappear from his life. He hadn't, of course, but it seemed that way and it hurt like hell to think he was losing Arthur. The Briton's words were not making anything better at all. In fact, it sounded like he wasn't really remorseful over leaving him alone for so long and could not give a damn whether Francis forgave him or not. Arthur probably didn't see why he should be forgiven in the first place. It wasn't really that he should be forgiven; Francis just wanted Arthur to at least act like he wanted more time with him, but that never happened anymore

"You might as well go." Francis closes his eyes as he answers, voice quiet and careful not to tremble. When had he prepared to say goodbye? He hadn't even realised it himself, but when Francis noticed the lack of attention, of love from Arthur, he had slowly closed his heart off ready for the day that he would be left by the one he was so desperately in love with. "Besides, aren't you busy with work or something?" The Frenchman throws back the excuse Arthur had used over and over.

"I," Arthur pauses, thinking of what to tell his boyfriend, or well his ex-boyfriend now, "you're right. I'm sorry, Francis, if I had more time we could talk about this some more-" He's cut short when the other man in the room scoffs.

"Right, more time. You never had enough time to even pick up the phone and give me a ring." Once he hears the other take in intake of breath so that he can defend himself, Francis turns around and gives him a tired look, "just go, Arthur. Please."

He was very tired of the excuses, very tired of having Arthur near him yet not as close as before, and he was especially tired of the pain his heart endured during the past few months.

Calmly, and without meeting Francis' eyes, Arthur gives a curt nod before heading to the front door where he hesitates. "I'm sorry." He calls out before opening the door and quietly closing it behind him leaving Francis to turn back to the window and watch the English nation walk away from him and everything they had had together.

Sighing, Francis turns to the wine bottle he had taken out before Arthur had shown up. Without bothering to grab the glass right beside him, he raises the bottle up to his lips and takes a swig of it. He would spend his day and night drinking until he forgot everything; he didn't even mind the hangover the next morning when he awoke on the floor with an empty wine bottle grasped in his hand.

No thoughts of Arthur came until that afternoon, allowing him to finally let the tears escape his eyes as he lies on the floor in the bedroom- having been there since after he had woken up in the living-room and finding that he wasn't up for doing anything at all but wallow in self-pity. The carpet was soft beneath him and Francis couldn't help but curl into himself and feel like nothing could touch him when he was this small. "Damn you, Arthur!" He yells into the carpet, muffling his voice and soaking the spot with his tears as he sobs into it. Finally, after getting no response from the empty house or Arthur, who the long haired blonde wished had shown up again, Francis calms down and whispers, "It hurts too much."

A week went by and the brokenhearted man was able to feel better before the next world meeting came around. Getting there was easy, but the moment he was outside the building where the meeting would be held, his heart began to throb painfully. Francis couldn't help but wonder if Arthur would ignore him and act lie nothing had ever happened between them, and he didn't know if wanted that or not.

Stepping inside, he noticed other nations standing around outside the meeting room and checked his watch to see that he had arrived early. That only meant he had more time around Arthur. _No._ Francis shakes his head. _This isn't about Arthur. Stop making everything about him._

Loud laughter rang through the hallway, causing Francis to smile and look up as he recognized that it belonged to his friend, 'the awesome' Gilbert. But, once the blonde is close enough to see the other and sees what had caused his friend's laughter, his smile drops.

There stood Arthur looking flustered and opening up folder to glance at his notes as a means of a distraction perhaps. Around him stood Gilbert and Antonio. The latter with his arm around Arthur and a teasing smile on his face.

Francis found that he had stopped walking as he watched the scene a few feet away from him. There were other nations between them and he told himself that was why they hadn't seen him yet.

Gilbert's laughter dies down and he leans in to whisper in the shorter man's ear. Whatever was said made Arthur blush and shakes his head as he looks down, his expression hidden from Francis by his fringe.

Antonio takes Arthur's folder from him and moves to stand in front of him, blocking Francis' view of what was happening. But, if he could guess just by the movements of the Spanish nations' arm, Francis would say that Antonio was touching Arthur's cheek and that made him angry. Why was Arthur letting two of what he proclaimed the most annoying nations around touch him so causally like Francis once had?

Suddenly, Gilbert steps back away from Arthur as the Brit turns and leaves the duo behind causing Francis to go after him-without thinking- not even bothering to glance at his friends who stare after them with knowing looks.

"Do you think it will work?" Antonio asks Gilbert as he looks down and opens Arthur's folder to read through his notes. It looked like the English nation really did pay attention to everyone's suggestions no matter how useless they were.

"It better." Gilbert hums as he joins his Spanish friend. "They both look equally upset without one another, don't you think? And we just proved to Arthur that Francis obviously still loves him."

"Oh look." Antonio turns to the last page with writing on it and both him and Gilbert shake their heads, exasperated. On the page was Francis' name written over and over in Arthur's handwriting. Who knew he could be so cheesy? "They're so stupid."

Arthur had gone into a bathroom, walking straight up to the sink to splash cold water on his red, tear streaked face; he was certainly glad that he had managed to stop his tears after only a couple escaped him. His eyes wouldn't be so red that way. The Brit looks up into his reflection before grabbing a paper towel to dry his face. He heard the door open, but didn't bother looking to see who it was. They would leave him alone wouldn't they?

"Getting cozy with them, weren't you?" The harshness in his own voice reaches Francis' ears and he almost regrets speaking like he was. Almost. His anger was still very much existent. So much so that he didn't bother noticing Arthur's demeanor. All he could think of was how Arthur seemed so close to others and couldn't have given any of his time to him.

Arthur finally turns around once he recognizes the voice and drops the paper towel on the floor as his hands go limp by his sides. "Francis," his voice trembles, sounding weak and tired like Francis' had not long ago, "what are you talking about?" Green, sad eyes avoid blue, accusing ones.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about." Francis growls, and walks up to the other until they're an arm's length apart from each other. "You didn't have time for me, but you surely do for _my_ friends." Which, in any case, made things much worse since Arthur had nothing to do with them. "Since when did you let them touch you so casually, hm?"

Silence follows his question only to be broken with a sigh coming from the French nation. Calming down, he had realised that it shouldn't matter to him who Arthur talked to or spent his time with now. He was no longer his. His chest tightens painfully at the understanding. He would never be able to accept not having Arthur, would he?

"Sorry," Francis whispers, "I-I'll leave you alone." He turns and makes it back to the door before Arthur's broken voice stops him.

"Francis, wait." Arthur walks over to the other and takes a hold of his hand. "You still love me, right?" When he gets no response he keeps talking, taking the silence as a negative answer and having tears escaping his eyes because of it. "Antonio and Gilbert said you did, so I thought that maybe you had talked to them," his voice cracks, "but I also knew that I had hurt you too much and maybe you didn't love me anymore."

At this, Francis can't help but let out a bittersweet laugh. So that's what his friends had been doing. Still, it was very true that the younger man with him now had hurt him a lot. He turns around to look into the other's teary eyes. "You think I don't love you? You're the one that left so easily without trying to stay. What happened to that famous stubbornness when I needed to see it the most?"

"Because I hurt you." Arthur lets go of Francis' hand and brings up his own to wipe at his tears. "How can I have stayed with you when all I did was hurt you?" His gaze wanders away from Francis'. "I though I could leave you so you'd be happy with someone else but.."

"But?" The older nation murmurs, hopeful to hear a confession that he'd wanted from his beloved.

"I'm sorry, Francis." Arthur looks back up, determination and regret flashing through his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you or even show you that you're everything to me. You were always by my side, sometimes fighting, but you were still there and after having your love, I can't go back to not being with you. Life isn't the same because," another pause," I love you."

"That's all I needed to hear, Arthur." Francis brings his hand up to cup Arthur's cheek and chastely kiss his lips and murmurs, "I love you too."

"Arthur!" Francis whines from his spot on the couch in his living-room and pulls the Brit onto his lap, causing him to blush and call him a frog but not moving to get away. Instead he leans back against the man under him.

"You're clingy, you know that?" Arthur sighs and closes his eyes, glad that Francis had forgiven him after all and had gotten back to normal after a month of being together again.

"If I don't hold onto you, you'll go off and make tea or go to the garden or something." Francis wraps his arms around the Englishman's waist and kisses his neck. "Leaving me all by my lonesome."

Arthur only hums and turns enough to kiss Francis' lips; he was prepared for a day full of kisses, hugs, and much more with his cheesy French lover.

As for Francis, he couldn't have been happier. Having told Arthur everything he had felt before and hearing Arthur's confession had made their relationship better than before. He smiles against Arthur's lips.

"Let's go to bed."

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**End.**

**I hate myself.**

**This is so cliche in the Hetalia FrUK universe, huh? I'm sorry OTL ooc? what noooo. never! My endings do suck though. Each and every time.**

**GUYS, on a different note and why I put Gilbert and Antonio here, I absolutely love BTTplusArthur with it ending with FrUK of course :3 I love a jealous Francis. Always. And I just love FrUK.**

**ANYWAY, I'm currently in the middle of writing a M-rated FrUK fic. It might be a while longer before I finish it though, I'm losing inspiration quite quickly and school starts again on Monday and this was just written because I was feeling sad.**

**Oh also, I'm always afraid of my writing. I once read a post on Tumblr saying something along the lines of "Great plots written horribly." It makes me wonder if some of the stuff I come up with are great ideas but I kill them with what I write. I once had a Nyotalia USUK plot and it was going to be great! (I told myself even though I don't like nyotalia) But I never finished it and I keep thinking that if I tell someone (a better writer) my idea, they'll write it so much better. *sobs***

**Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Thank you for reading! Sorry for mediocre work. And if you spot mistakes, I'm sorry wrote this late and in a hurry? So let me know? Thanks, have a nice day/night!**

**(oh gosh, I hope you know that fringe means bangs)**


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